


What Does the Universe Know?

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt Peter Parker, M/M, Soulmates, Starker, reluctanct soulmate, shared pain is an indicator, tony isnt happy with the idea of being owned by anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-11-02 01:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: Steve brings a wounded Peter Parker to Tony, who realizes something is definitely different. Which may or may not be a good thing - depends on who you're asking.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so, as with a lot of my stories, this one is my first attempt at a trope. In this case, a soulbond/mate story. It's only a WIP in that I need to edit it as I go along, since I wrote it in my discord server.  
Let me know what you think! (I hope it turned out readable)

The call came in sometime around midnight.

By then, Tony had had his dinner; a glass of scotch. And dessert; an ice cube.

He was lounging on the sofa, feet still in designer shoes and propped up on the armrest, eyes closed against the headache that had formed somewhere above his left ear early that morning and had never faded – despite the handful of Tylenol he’d downed with lunch. Another scotch – no ice.

_“Incoming call from Steve Rogers,”_ FRIDAY announced, softly, in deference to his headache.

He opened one eye, as if expecting to see the man in his living room.

“What? What does he want?”

_“He didn’t say.” _

Of course he didn’t.

The billionaire hesitated, seriously considering sending him to voicemail. If something serious were happening anywhere in the world, FRIDAY would have told him about it. It couldn’t be an Avenger thing, and he couldn’t imagine Steve calling him for advice, so it probably wasn’t personal. Which left, what? He didn’t know – and that was enough of a mystery to pique his curiosity.

“Put him through. Steve?”

_“Tony. Where are you?” _

“Home.”

_“I have a problem. Can I come over?” _

“What kind of problem?”

What could Steve Rogers possibly need Tony to solve for him?

_“I’ll need to show you.” _

Tony scowled, again, but now he was even more curious, of course.

“Yeah.” By the time Rogers arrived from the compound, Tony might have had a chance to clean up a little – maybe even put an icepack on the ear and lose the headache. “Come on over.”

_“I’ll be there in five minutes.” _

The call went dead, and Tony sat up – and winced as pain suffused his entire being at the motion. Especially his head.

“Shit.”

Not surprisingly, FRIDAY announced Steve almost exactly five minutes later.

“They’re here.”

Tony had managed to be upright, by then, and had even found a bag of chips and some dip. Not the perfect plate of hors d'oeuvres that one might expect from a billionaire, but more than someone he didn’t like would have received.

He frowned.

_“They?” _

When no response was forthcoming, he got to his feet and walked over to the door, opening it with a less that witty comment on his lips. It died aborning. Steve wasn’t alone. In his arms was another… person. Presumably, anyway, since that person was dressed completely in an odd blue and red outfit and was wearing a mask. S/he? was also still; their body limp in Steve’s arms.

“Someone tried to rob you and you killed them?” he asked, finally coming out of his surprise – and feeling just the barest hint of an ache in his side. “Need me to help you hide the body?”

Steve walked in without an invitation, careful not to jar his burden – although he was carrying them easily. Of course he was; he was all muscles, Tony knew.

“I found him,” Rogers explained, walking over to the sofa and lowering the body onto the soft leather. “_Natasha_ did, actually.”

“So?”

“He’s hurt.”

“Take him to a hospital.”

Steve frowned.

“You don’t know who he is?”

“No. Who is he?”

“He’s the Spider-man.”

“Who?”

“Don’t you keep an eye on what’s going on in your own neighborhood, Tony?” Steve chided. “The guy’s been taking down low-level criminals for a few months, now. Wears a mask, never sticks around to talk to the police but always willing to talk to the little guy. He’s all over YouTube and facial media.”

“_Social_ media,” Tony corrected, automatically, frowning. Then he looked at Rogers. “You knew all this?”

Steve shrugged.

“Natasha told me,” he admitted.

“Where is she?” Tony asked, finally moving over to the sofa, as well. Steve had moved the cushions out of the way and was settling the costumed figure more comfortably, and was reaching for the full hood that protected his identity. “Wait. Should…” He trailed off as the mask came off, revealing a very young face, and the billionaire felt an ache that had nothing to do with the alcohol that he’d consumed shoot through his entire body, almost staggering him.

“She’s parking the car,” Steve said, not noticing Tony’s reaction. He had pulled a knife and was slicing through the fabric of the costume, now, carefully pulling it off. “One of the SHIELD guys spotted our young friend here swinging above her, and called Natasha. We were literally a few blocks away, and went to look – because Nat was curious. We found him sprawled in the middle of the street. She almost ran over him.”

“What happened to him?” Tony asked, rubbing his side, even though it didn’t make the ache he was feeling go away.

“We’ll have to ask him.” He pulled the shirt away, and they both saw a dizzying array of bruising, but no open wounds. “Once we get him to wake up.”

The door buzzed, again, and Tony turned, torn between watching Steve and knowing that Romanoff would not be happy if he made her wait on the other side. Luckily, he didn’t need to choose. That was the whole point of having an AI, after all.

“FRIDAY? Door.”

Romanoff walked into Tony’s living room; beautiful, deadly, sexy as fucking hell.

She came over to stand by Tony, but she was watching Steve, too. He’d now managed to ease the shirt completely off and was cutting off the pants – which Tony could see were really just a pair of blue sweats.

“We learning anything?” she asked.

“He’s young,” Steve said, unnecessarily.

They could all see his features in Tony’s expensive lighting. He probably didn’t even need to shave.

“And it looks like he’s just knocked out, but we should probably have a doctor look at him. Tony?”

Tony had been staring at the young man – a _boy_, really – rubbing his aching side, idly. He started at Steve’s voice, tearing his gaze away from the bruise on the boy’s cheek.

“Yes? What? Sorry.”

“We should get him something to wear. Got anything you’re willing to give up?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve got a SHIELD medic on the way in. He’ll be here in ten minutes, or so.”

Tony scowled at the thought of still more people invading his home, but he didn’t say anything. He just went to his bedroom to find some sweats – or lounge pants – and a t-shirt.

By the time Tony returned with clean clothes, Steve (and now Natasha) had the boy stripped of everything but a pair of faded blue cotton boxers and were checking the too thin frame for any other injuries.

“How does he look?” Tony asked, handing Natasha the clothing.

“Like he was hit by a bus, or something,” Steve said, his voice concerned. “Bruised all over, but I don’t think there’s anything broken. Nothing that I can tell, anyway.”

A soft moan of pain drew all of their attention, and the slight form shifted on the sofa, suddenly. All three watched as soft, chocolate eyes fluttered open, looking around with a dazed expression. First at Steve, who was hovering closest, then at Natasha, and finally drifting to Tony, who groaned as a stab of pain went seemingly through his very core, staggering him.

“Tony?”

“I’m okay.”

Natasha frowned, watching him, while Steve was focused on the other. The billionaire felt the pain fade, immediately. It was the weirdest thing, actually.

“What’s going on?” she asked him.

“I don’t – _nothing_.”

He rubbed his side, absently, and then both were distracted by another low cry of agony – one that sounded like an echo of Tony’s moan.


	2. 2

“Easy,” Steve said, softly, pressing a large, gentle hand against the boy’s slight chest. “Don’t try to move.”

Tony took half a step forward, and then stopped, confused as to why he automatically objected to Steve touching that alabaster skin.

“Where…” the voice was soft, the eyes wide and confused. “What…?”

“Let’s start with _who_…” Steve said, slowly. “As in… who are you?”

“Peter… Parker.”

“What happened, Peter?” Steve asked.

“I’m not sure.” They all saw a shudder run through the lithe body. “I… where am I?”

“You’re in my home,” Tony said, speaking up, and drawing the boy’s attention. He felt another stab of pain – not so sharp as before – and saw the boy wince, at the same time he did. “You’re safe,” he added. “Don’t be afraid.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, slightly, glancing between the two of them, but Steve merely reached for the throw blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa.

“He’s probably in shock,” Rogers told them. “We’ll want to keep him warm, if we can. But let’s hold off on dressing him until the doctor comes. Tony? Can you get a warmer blanket?”

“Yes, of course.”

He hesitated, but then turned, and headed for his bedroom, pulling the comforter off his bed and carrying it out into the living room. Rather than hand it to Steve, it was the billionaire who carefully draped it over Peter, tucking it around his thin body.

“How old are you, Peter?” Steve asked, trying to distract the boy from what must have been a fair amount of pain, to judge from his facial expression.

He was distracted, as well, and didn’t notice Tony wincing, again – and biting back a gasp when his hand accidentally brushed Peter’s bare skin.

“Nineteen,” came the reply, and the boy’s hand shot out to grasp Tony’s before he could move it away. “_Please_…”

The older man felt the shock of the touch, and would have jerked his hand free, if not for the fact that Peter’s grip was impossibly strong.

“Easy,” Steve said, quick to reassure. “You’re fine.”

Tony wasn’t so sure, as an impossible realization was beginning to dawn on him. He tried to loosen Peter’s grip on his wrist, glancing over at Natasha, who was watching him, intently.

“It hurts…” Peter whimpered, closing his eyes as a tear trailed slowly down the porcelain cheek.

“We have a doctor coming. Hang in there, buddy.”

Tony pried Peter’s fingers loose, and freed his wrist from the boy’s grasp.

“I’ll get him some Tylenol,” he said, rubbing his wrist, and moving away.

There was no way. He had to be wrong.

He wasn’t surprised that Natasha followed him into the kitchen.

“What’s going on, Tony?”

“Nothing. He’s in pain. I’m getting him a painkiller.”

“So why are _you_ hurting, too?”

“Because I’m an empathetic guy, Agent Romanoff,” he told her, fumbling through the draw in the kitchen island, looking for the Tylenol that he’d had only hours before. “Don’t read anything into this that isn’t there…”

“Yeah? You don’t find it interesting that both of you seem to be feeling the same pain?”

“No. _He’s_ beat up and _I’ve_ been nursing a hangover since breakfast. It’s not interesting, at all.”

“It’s common knowledge that when a person finds their soulmate, the first moments are so profound it’s often mistaken for shooting pains – echoed by the other.”

“Yeah? Well, that _is_ interesting,” Tony told her. “You should write a book on it, or something.”

“Tony…”

“How long until the doctor is here?”

“You can’t fight it.”

“I can’t,” he agreed. “Because there isn’t _anything_ there, Natasha. You’re imagining it.”

“Doubtful.”

He knew she was right about that – she was far, _far_, too observant to miss anything (and she never imagined things) – but he refused to accept the thought that fate was pinning him to someone else. Someone young enough to be his son – and clearly unable to even take care of himself. Tony had better things to do with his time than spend it with a _boy_. Even one as pretty as Peter Parker.

He refused to meet Romanoff’s eyes as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and carried the pills and the water back to the couch, handing them to Steve to allow him to administer the dose. He couldn’t help the moment of panic when the boy coughed as he downed the pills, though. What if he _choked_? What if they were stuck in his throat and he needed to go to the hospital? Maybe he should have FRIDAY call and have a room secured, just in case-

“You okay?” Steve asked, waiting for the coughing spell to pass.

“Yeah.”

He sounded alright, Tony decided, feeling the concern ease, and scowling at Romanoff’s amused look. She hadn’t missed his brief panic attack – and he was sure she knew exactly what had caused it. Before she could say something to annoy him, further, and before he could say something stupid that might make her mad, there was another announcement and two other people came into the room to join them at the sofa. A SHIELD medic, and his assistant. They took charge with calm efficiency, pulling back the blankets covering the boy, sitting him up and running him through a battery of tests, checking everything from his heart and lungs to his reflexes. Then the medic walked over to the three Avengers, while the assistant helped Peter get dressed in Tony’s t-shirt and sweats.

“Well?” Steve asked. “How’s he doing?”

“Looks pretty good, really, considering the heavy bruising. A couple days off his feet and he should be good to go.”

“That’s good news.” “

He’ll need to be watched, though – just in case we’re missing something.”

“He can go to the compound,” Tony said. “

I don’t want him moving, too much,” the medic disagreed. “At least not tonight.”

“He can stay _here_,” Natasha said. “Tony has a guest room with a warm bed and an AI that can provide constant monitoring.”

“Wait. What? _No_-“

“That’s a good idea,” Steve agreed, ignoring Tony’s immediate protest. “We’ve got him in a position where we can learn a little bit more about him… then we can get him on his feet and find out if he’s Avenger material.”

Rogers was always looking for new recruits, after all. Tony scowled, glaring at Natasha, who calmly raised an eyebrow at him, daring him.

“Fine. He can stay here.” 

“I can’t stay here,” Peter said, looking at them all a little dazed. “I have to get _home_.”

“Someone waiting?” Tony asked, perversely annoyed that now _Peter_ didn’t want to stay. “Girlfriend? Wife?”

“I’m _nineteen_,” he reminded him. “I’m not married.” The boy blushed. “And no girlfriend. No _anyone_. But my fish needs fed.”

“You live alone?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.” The boy reddened. “I have for a while.”

“Well, at least we don’t need to worry about someone coming to look for him,” Natasha said. “We’re going to want you to stay here,” she told Peter. “You need to be watched – to make sure you’re not injured worse than we think you are.”

“But-“

“No arguments,” she told him, leveling him with a quelling look that men a lot older, and hardened than Peter Parker would have had trouble ignoring. He didn’t have a chance. She softened her demeanor, slightly, with a smile. “I’ll stop at your place and feed your fish, myself.”

The medic handed Tony a small container with a few white pills.

“If he hurts more than Tylenol will dull, give him one of those. They’re not so strong that he’ll be knocked out, but they’ll take the edge off. _With food_.”

Stark scowled at the thought of playing nursemaid, but nodded when Natasha tossed him the same look she’d leveled at Peter. He wasn’t immune to her, either.

“Right.”

“Why don’t you guys put Peter in the guestroom?” Romanoff suggested to the medics. “He’ll be more comfortable there than on the couch.”

When they’d eased the boy to his feet and guided him to the door Tony had gestured to, Steve turned to Tony.

“Thanks for taking him in. We’ll get intel on him while he’s convalescing and see if he’s Avenger material.”

“Like I had a choice?” Tony said, irritably.

“You didn’t,” Romanoff confirmed. “And don’t you dare hurt him. He didn’t choose this any more than you did.”

“Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?” Steve said, looking between the two of them.

“Because you are,” Natasha told him. “Come on; I’ll explain it on the way to Peter’s. We have to feed his fish.”

“Hey.” Tony’s scowl was tinged with a little alarm. “This is _private_. I don’t-“

“It’s _incredible_, is what it is,” she interrupted. “I can’t believe you found him.”

“I didn’t _find_ him. It’s completely random, and it’s _not_ going to happen.”

She smirked.

“We’ll see. I meant what I said, though. He’s a _person_, and you treat him like one – not an inconvenience.”

“He _is_ an inconvenience.”

“Well… now, he’s _your_ inconvenience. We’ll stop by sometime tomorrow to see how he’s doing.”

“Call if you need anything, though,” Steve added, still oblivious to what they were talking about.

“I don’t _need_ anything,” Tony grumbled, watching as the medics returned to the living room and they all left – leaving his couch scattered with shredded costume pieces and discarded medical supplies. “I’m a fucking _billionaire_. If I needed something, I’d already have it.”


	3. 3

He cleaned up the mess in the living room, which didn’t take long, and then went to the guest room and hesitated at the door, once more absently rubbing his side with the heel of his hand. The boy was in the bed, his hand pressed lightly against his own side, and Tony scowled, realizing why, and dropped his hand as he walked over to the bed to look down at his most unwanted guest.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m okay.” Peter must have realized that he wasn’t wanted, because he tried to sit up. “If they’re gone, _I’m_ going to go, too,” he said, wincing. “I appreciate the help, but I have things to get taken care of, and-“

Tony’s hand stopped him, and they both felt the ache that the contact brought. Peter assuming, reasonably enough, that it was from his injuries, but _Tony_ knowing better, and unable to help but want to keep him from hurting himself. It was automatic.

“You need to be still,” he said, softly. “Relax, okay? We’ll get you on your feet soon enough.”

“I need to feed my fish.”

“It’s a _fish_. It’s not going to mutiny if you aren’t there by morning. Besides, Romanoff _said_ she was going to feed it.”

“She doesn’t know where I live.”

Tony snorted, and was both relieved and annoyed when the boy succumbed to the aches and pains and allowed himself to be pressed back into the bedding.

“She’s very good at finding things out,” he told Peter. “By the time she gets to her car, she’ll know where you live – and anything else she needs to know.”

“That’s disconcerting.”

“Yes.” He brushed his hand against the boy's cheek – and then jerked his hand back as if it had been burned. “Do you need anything?”

Peter’s expression was confused, but he was too tired and sore to do anything more than just shake his head.

“No. I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Get some rest, alright? I’m just a call away if you need me. If you need _anything_, I mean.”

“Thank you.”

Peter eyes closed, and didn’t open them, again, and Tony waited a moment, watching him sleep, before he forced himself away with another scowl. _No_. He closed the door behind him, softly.

“FRIDAY? Tell me everything you have on Peter Parker – and Spider-man.”

><><><><>><>>

An hour later, Tony knew everything (public) that there was to know about the young man sleeping in the bed in his guestroom. About the loss of his parents, the loss of his uncle a couple of years earlier, and the death of his aunt only a year ago. He knew that Peter Parker was a very smart young man who had graduated high school at sixteen, and had immediately been accepted to NYU with a full scholarship.

He knew the boy worked part-time and paid his bills with a trust set up by his aunt and uncle when his folks had died. Not a ton of money, but more than enough to get him through school and set himself up with whatever he wanted to do with his life. He also knew a few things about Spiderman – and if not for the fact that he’d been standing right there when Steve had taken the mask off, he never would have connected the two. Using an odd webbing that seemed to shoot from his hands, incredibly acrobatic and ridiculously strong and quick.

He didn’t understand how unassuming Peter Parker could do the things that he saw on the videos on YouTube – and he knew they weren’t doctored. FRIDAY had already checked for him. He hesitated, and tossed his tablet aside, getting to his feet. He hadn’t looked at Peter’s hands, and now he was curious about the webbing. It wasn’t because he wanted to go look at him, again.

He was asleep, but it wasn’t a sound sleep. His brow was furrowed, either in pain or as a result of a bad dream, Tony didn’t know. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, unable to help himself. It was a compulsion to touch Peter Parker, and despite the fact that he hated himself for allowing anything to tell him what to do, Tony reached out a trembling hand and brushed his fingertips along the boy’s cheek.

The pain that he expected to follow the contact didn’t come. Quite the opposite; Tony felt a rush of gentle warmth. From the way Peter’s expression suddenly cleared, the boy was feeling it, as well. The brown eyes opened, and Tony pulled his hand back, flushing.

“Tony…?”

“Yeah.” He wanted to correct the boy. _Mr. Stark_. Tony was what his friends called him – the few he had – and none of them were nineteen-year-old boys. He _couldn’t_, though. “I’m sorry I woke you. I just…” _what_? “I was just making sure you were okay.”

“I hurt.”

The boy’s beautiful eyes were filled with pain.

“I bet. You’re pretty beat up, right now.”

Tony couldn’t stop himself reaching out, once more; something deep within him forcing him to want to soothe that pain, and his own unerring observational skills telling him that he could. He brushed his fingers along Peter’s cheek, and watched the boy’s eyes close and his body relax. A soft sigh escaped his lips and sent a jolt through the billionaire.

“That’s good…” Peter murmured, softly.

Tony pulled his hand away and the boy whimpered.

“Please…”

The scientist in him couldn’t help but reach out and touch him, again, amazed when the touch seemed to soothe Peter, once more. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Was it? Had he heard any stories of a soulmate’s touch easing pain? Had it ever been experimented with?

“What the _fuck_…”

It was a whisper, but Peter opened his eyes, tiredly.

“Are you okay?”

His voice was hoarse, but concerned. As if afraid Tony had injured himself. The billionaire felt his insides turn into goo. The boy was hurting, and yet he was checking up on him, instead of whining. He pressed his palm against Peter’s cheek.

“I’m fine, honey. Do you hurt, right now?”

“No.”

Peter didn’t even open his eyes, but something inside his mind must have figured out that something was going on.

“Please don’t _leave_ me…”

Tony scowled, angry with himself for being weak, but unable to leave the boy’s side. Not with the ache and the fear that he could hear in Peter’s voice.

“Shhh… I’m not going to leave you.”

A hand moved, then, coming to rest on Tony’s thigh. Peter shifted on the bed, cuddling himself right up against Tony where he sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face against the billionaire’s hip.

Tony froze, and Peter took advantage, wrapping his arm around his lower body and making a soft, satisfied noise before falling silent and still, the touch of his soulmate keeping the pain away.

><><><><><>>>

It was almost three hours later when the boy stirred – _finally_.

Nose still tucked against Tony’s hip, the older man didn’t have any problem noticing the movement, and he looked over, setting his phone on the bedside stand. Peter’s hand, which had been around him, holding him close, had slipped while he’d been sleeping and was in Tony’s lap. When it had first moved, it had produced an immediate erection in the billionaire – with only the slightest of touches.

In the ensuing hours since, Tony had managed to get himself under control – _mostly_ – but when Peter moved, his hand brushed him, again. An innocent gesture that the waking boy wasn’t even aware he was doing, but one that had Tony once more hard and interested.

Jesus.

“Tony…?”

Those chocolate brown eyes were looking up at him, owlishly; his curls adorably tangled. Tony forced himself to ignore the way both made him throb even harder. He reached down and carefully moved the hand from his crotch before Peter could notice.

“Awake?”

Peter frowned at the awkward position the other man was in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, and turned slightly sideways, with himself cuddled right up beside him. It couldn’t have been comfortable for him, and he felt an odd warmth rush through him at the thought that Tony Stark hadn’t pushed him away or moved off the bed rather than deal with the crick he was almost certainly getting in his back in that angle.

“Yeah. How long was I asleep? Are you sore?”

Tony shrugged, realizing what he meant, immediately.

“Only a couple of minutes,” he lied, forcing himself not to stretch those painfully stiff muscles, just then – and definitely keeping his arm where it was to block the raging erection that wasn’t softening anytime soon, if he was able to judge those things. “I’m fine.”

Peter shifted himself more toward the center of the bed with a soft moan that did nothing to help Tony’s problem. Pain and pleasure sounded fairly similar, and the boy’s voice was working wonders on him. 

How do you feel?” he asked, solicitously, keeping himself turned away, but looking over his shoulder.

“Sore… but weird…” Peter murmured, his hand under the blankets and his hips rocking, slightly. Tony saw that his eyes had closed, and he realized that the boy was stroking himself – and probably didn’t even notice. “I had a crazy dream…”

Tony tried to force himself not to notice the way Peter’s hand moved the blanket in a perfectly controlled pace. A rhythmic pace that he found himself matching on his own, his hand sliding against the fabric covering his aching hard cock. They were already in sync, he realized – and forced his hand to still, although it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.

“Yeah?” his voice cracked on the single syllable, and his tongue came out, wetting lips suddenly dry. “About what?”

“You…” Peter said, lazily. His eyes suddenly snapped open, and his hand stopped as he realized what he was doing. His cheeks flaming, he looked up at the older man. “I mean… I’m not sure. We were… and _you_ were… and…”

He trailed off, confused, and Tony had the feeling that the boy didn’t have a clue that they were soul bonded. The pain Tony had felt at the initial meeting would have felt like nothing more than the ache from his injuries to Peter.

Lucky bastard.


	4. 4

“Don’t worry about it, for now,” Tony told him. “Just concentrate on getting better.”

“But…”

“Do you need a pain pill?”

“No.” The boy held the blanket in a firm grasp, bunching it around his groin, clearly trying to hide his arousal from Tony – much in the same way that Tony was hiding his own from Peter. “I… I’m okay. I should go.”

“No. You need to stay.”

“I _can’t_.”

Peter was suddenly looking worried, and Tony knew why. Knew it as if the boy had actually spoken aloud. He was afraid that he was going to say something wrong and either make himself look foolish in front of Tony – or _do_ something wrong and look ridiculous in front of Tony. His mind was confused with the myriad of sensations running through it, just then. The agony of the injuries, the lust that was coming from the nearness of a soulmate that he hadn’t recognized – much yet _acknowledged_ – and what was probably a fair dose of hero worship just being this close to Tony Stark. _Ironman_ himself.

“Sure you can.”

He couldn’t help himself; he reached out and touched Peter’s cheek, and they both felt the shock of the touch. Peter moaned, softly, tensing under Tony’s hand, and the billionaire grunted. It was so _good_. So right. They _were_ meant for each other. Tony pulled his hand back, just a little.

"Tony…?” Peter’s eyes were uncertain, still, and tinged with hunger that made Tony clench his jaw so tightly he thought he might break a molar. “I don’t understand…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“What-“

“Peter…” Tony touched him, again, bracing for the jolt, this time, and able to just hold his hand on that wonderfully smooth skin. “You need to rest. Okay? Just… just go to sleep.”

The boy turned his head, his face suddenly nuzzling the palm of Tony’s hand; his lips brushing kisses against it.

“Please, Tony…” he murmured, closing his eyes, his cheeks reddening, but his lips not stopping. “I need… I need you…”

“Peter…” Tony whispered, again. His eyes closed, as well, and his breath caught. “Jesus Christ… you’re so...”

_Young_. So very young, Tony’s brain told him, even as his cock screamed that young was _good_. Young was tight. _So tight_. So flexible.

“So _fuckable_…”

Peter’s eyes opened and it was Tony’s turn to flush, when he realized that he’d spoken aloud.

“I… we _could_… couldn’t we?”

“No.”

There wasn’t any way to soften the immediate refusal – especially since it pretty much killed him to say no. Not only was his body screaming at him to take Peter and drive him into the mattress, repeatedly, but his heart and soul were demanding the intimacy, as well.

Peter recoiled, as if Tony had physically slapped him. His face pale, and his eyes glazed over. The bruising only showed more clearly, just then.

“Oh. Yeah. I mean, I understand. I’m _sorry_. I don’t know what I was-“

Tony shook his head.

“Not because I don’t _want_ to,” Tony told him, honestly. He wanted to. But he didn’t want to, also. He had a feeling that the moment he slid himself into that young, willing, body, he would never be able to resist him, again, and the bond that he was trying (and failing) to refuse would be as solid as if set in iron. “You’re _injured_. It would hurt you.”

It sounded lame to him, but Peter accepted it. Accepted that he cared about his well-being (which he _did_) and didn’t want to hurt him. It didn’t make either of them suddenly go soft, however.

“Oh.”

“You should get some sleep.”

And he should go take a shower and deal with his hard on. Peter shook his head.

“I’m not tired.” “

"Sore? Need a pill?”

“No. I mean, yeah. I’m sore. But it’s not that bad.”

“Hungry?”

“Not really.” He looked up at Tony, who was captured by those beautiful brown eyes. “Can you keep me company?”

“I should go…” take care of the raging erection that was making his underwear so fucking painfully tight. But he saw the rejection in Peter’s eyes and smiled, instead, refusing to allow that. “Get changed into something more comfortable, first, if I’m going to hang out with you.”

Peter’s smile made it worth it. Forcing down his annoyance with himself, he got up, still keeping his front turned away.

“Want anything while I’m up?”

“No. Thank you.”

When Tony returned to the guest room a few minutes later, he had changed into a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt. The pants didn’t do anything to hide the fact that he was still somewhat aroused, but an irreverent part of him liked the idea of letting Peter know he was hard. Let the guy know what he was in for. What was waiting for him when he was feeling better.

Peter had rolled onto his side in the bed, facing toward the door, so he didn’t miss Tony’s arrival, and the older man watched the boy’s eyes as they trailed down from his face, to his chest (maybe looking at the soft glow of the arc reactor through his shirt) and then settled for a moment on his midsection.

Tony felt a surge of smug happiness at the hunger he saw in Peter’s eyes, just then, and then about came in those same lounge pants when the boy’s tongue suddenly emerged from his mouth to wet his lower lip.

Clearly he wasn’t as in control of things as he’d like to think that he was. Peter was definitely having an effect on him.

“You’re okay?” he asked, hesitating, asking for permission.

Peter nodded, pulling the blankets back before shifting with a slightly pained expression to make room for Tony, who accepted the invitation and slid under the blanket, suddenly feeling nervous. He pulled the blankets back up over them, leaning over Peter to make sure they were covering him on the other side as well, and Peter brought his hand up against Tony’s side. A casual touch that made them both hold their breath.

“What’s going on, Tony?” the boy asked, his voice soft, and his touch suddenly burning the older man’s side. Not in a bad way, though, Tony thought. It was a decidedly good touch. “I don’t understand… I mean… I’m… I’ve never seen someone and just wanted them to be so close to me, before.”

“I’m _Ironman_,” he reminded him, his heart racing, suddenly, as he settled beside him, turned slightly on his side, in order to be able to look at him. “It could be hero worship.”

“It isn’t. I saw _Captain America_, and didn’t feel like this.”

He still had his hand on Tony’s side, but now he slid it under Tony’s shirt, and the touch was magnified. Tony couldn’t suppress the moan of desire, and the boy suddenly smiled, his eyes somewhat filled with wonder, as if he realized that he was the reason for the sound – and the way Tony was shifting so uncomfortably. “This is very different from how I felt when I was near him.”

“Good,” Tony said. Whispered, because suddenly his breath was taken away. “I don’t want you to ever feel like that near him.”

“What is it?”

Peter asked, his eyes on Tony’s, but his hand sliding along the billionaire’s ribcage, fingers delightfully agile.

“Peter…”

“Tell me. It’s not a _sex pollen_ thing, is it?”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“No. Those things are myths.”

“Too bad.”

Tony’s eyes were dark with want as he watched Peter, whose hand never stopped brushing against his skin.

“You wanted it to be something like that?”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no _control_, honey,” he said, feeling another surge of annoyance at the fact that he was completely enthralled at the boy’s touch. Couldn’t have pulled away from him, just then, if his own dead grandmother had walked into the room with her bingo group behind her. “No stopping, once you started.”

“So?” Realizing that he had been somehow given permission to touch him wherever he wanted, Peter’s hand started sliding south. “Is it _always_ about control?”

“_Everything’s_ about control, Peter,” Tony said, tensing when those amazing fingers found the waistband of his lounge pants. “I do things because I _want_ to do them. Not because I _have_ to.”

“It can’t be _both_?”

“I…” the fingers were under the waistband, now, and suddenly Tony whimpered – a sound that he couldn’t remember ever making before. “_Fuck_.”

“You’re alright?” he asked, stilling.

“Yes. Don’t… just don’t stop.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“You haven’t figured it out, yet?” Tony countered, moving his hips, feeling Peter’s hand wrap around his cock as he slowly rutted against him. “You’re a smart guy.”

“Tell me, or I’ll stop.”

Another annoyed surge, but Tony couldn’t pull away, despite his very real intention to do so. Instead, he rolled himself on top of Peter, putting the boy on his back under him. In the same motion, pulling the front of his pants down, and straddling Peter’s hips, but making sure he never broke the contact that he had with his throbbing cock.

“Don’t stop.”

“What is it, Tony?”

“I could be wrong…” his hips were still moving, and now he leaned over, one hand on either side of Peter’s head, slowly thrusting into Peter’s hand, imagining in his mind how much better it would feel when he was inside him. “We’re bonded, Peter.”


	5. 5

The hand on his cock tightened, just a little, at the words, and Tony groaned and looked down at the boy he had pinned under him. Peter’s eyes were dark and unreadable, but he wasn’t freaking out, so _that_ was a decided plus, Tony thought.

“_Soul_ bonded?”

“Looks that way.”

It definitely felt that way, he realized, even though he’d never felt a bond, before. There was no doubt.

“You’re mine, then?”

He hated it. He _loved_ it.

The words were said with wonder, but Tony fought the idea that he belonged to anyone. He was his own man. Was Tony fucking Stark. Billionaire. Playboy. Ironman. Superhero. He couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ – belong to anyone. He was his own man. Certainly wouldn’t be tied to a nineteen year old boy. A boy who was almost certainly going to be nothing but trouble.

But Tony loved trouble. He looked down at Peter Parker. Peter _fucking_ Parker. _His_ Peter Parker. His nineteen year old, fresh-faced, slightly bruised up Peter Parker, and wondered if it would really be so _bad_ to belong to him. It _felt_ right – and he knew it would, even without those fingers the boy had wrapped around him.

That was just the icing on the cake, really. He’d never be alone. Would always have a champion, even if the rest of the world for some reason turned on him, some day. Would have someone to come home to every night. Someone who loved him. Jesus fuck… someone who _loved him_. Tony hadn’t realized how he’d been longing for that until he had it. Or it had him, whichever. He looked down into those beautiful brown eyes that were watching him, and smiled, giving up and feeling a surge of happiness suffuse his entire being at the surrender. Temporary as it might be, just then.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m yours, Peter.”

The moment the words were out, he felt a shift inside him. Felt the world turn upside down and was suddenly light-headed. Felt something well up inside him until he was almost giddy. A reward for doing what the universe wanted. Of course, the real reward was lying under him in the guest room bed, just then, holding him intimately, and looking up at him in wonder – as if he was going through the same succession of emotions and sensations.

“Fuck…” Tony whispered, his normally articulate vocabulary at a loss for the crazy rush he felt just then.

He lowered his head, resting it against Peter’s neck and resumed hitching his hips, sliding his cock in and out of Peter’s grasp.

“Tony…” Peter’s anxious groan made him stop, and he lifted his head to look down at him.

“What, honey?”

“I want… I _need_… I mean…”

The older man kissed him, still moving his hips, lazily, enjoying Peter’s touch.

“Need me to touch you?”

“Yes. Please?”

He could feel Peter’s erection against his belly each time his thrust put him deeper into the boy’s hand. Tony kissed him, again, but didn’t stop what he was doing.

“Let me finish, Peter,” he murmured, his hips moving a little faster. “I’ll make it worth your wait.”

In response, Peter tightened his grasp on Tony’s cock, moving his hand to meet each thrust he made, using his thumb to add extra friction with each motion Tony made, until he was pumping a little harder, his breath coming in soft gasps as he found himself getting closer to climax.

“Peter…” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Please…”

“What do you need, Tony?” he asked, anxiously, excited by the older man’s arousal, but uncertain if he was doing everything right, or not.

“Talk to me…”

“Oh… um… I was swinging around on the alley in between-“

“_No_.” Tony interrupted, his tone a mixture of annoyed and pained. “_Fuck_. Talk _dirty_, honey… make me cum all over you.”

“Oh.” Peter flushed, embarrassed. “Do it, Tony,” he said, instinctively lowering his voice. “You’re so hard. Hard for me, aren’t you, baby… Imagine if you were actually _inside_ me. How much-“

That was all it took. The cock in his hand seized and Tony groaned, jerking his hips forward with a triumphant sound, and Peter found himself being painted, quite literally, with rope after rope of thick cum. The older man buried his face into the boy’s shoulder, his hips thrusting several more times, enjoying the sensation of release, and how Peter’s now slick hand continued to stroke him in time with his motions.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, his free hand coming up to Tony’s hair, fingers carding through it, uncertainly.

“Yeah.” He turned his head and kissed the boy’s neck, then ran his tongue along the tender skin there, his lips pressing tiny, gentle kisses along Peter’s jaw. “That felt good, Peter,” he murmured, choosing a spot and then taking the alabaster skin between his lips, sucking on it, hard, for a long moment, before pulling back, studying the resulting mark.

_His_ mark. Claiming Peter for his own.

“Tony…”

Peter released his cock and reached for his own, but Tony reached down between them and moved his hand away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, tracing the length of the boy’s shaft, feeling Peter tremble at the initial touch – much the same way that Tony had. “What kind of experience have you had?” he asked, wondering what he had to work with. “Tell me you’re not a virgin…”

“I’ve had sex,” Peter assured him, his hips coming off the bed to press his cock into Tony’s grasp. “_Once_.”

“Yeah…?”

“With a girl. A _woman_, I mean…”

Tony smiled, and kissed him, hungrily, opening his mouth and waiting for Peter to do the same so he could slide his tongue between his lips and taste him. Then he pulled away, breathless.

“I suppose I should ask, then…” he said, his hand tightening on Peter’s throbbing cock. “Do you even _like_ men…?”

“I’ve never been with one,” Peter admitted. “But I like _you_.”

Which was good enough for Tony.

He kissed Peter, again, and then let go of the boy’s cock and shifted on top of him, his hand sliding under Peter’s shirt when he protested.

“Shh. I’m going to have my way with you. All you need to do – _this time_ – is lay back and enjoy it. Got it?”

“Yes.”

He brought himself upright, a little, propping himself up on his elbows to watch Tony’s progress as he pushed Peter’s shirt up, baring his stomach and chest. Tony’s mouth was all over the skin there, pressing gentle kisses against every bruise, and sucking hickeys indiscriminately along a path from the boy’s nipples down his belly. Marking him everywhere he went. He brushed his jaw against the tent in Peter’s pants, causing the boy to moan his name in a way that Tony had only ever heard in wet dreams

“Easy,” he said, again, gentling the boy with a touch and a kiss, and then sliding his pants down – and then off. “You’re so big, Peter…” Tony told him, his gaze going from Peter’s cock – which was _beautiful_ – to the boy’s eyes. “So wonderfully hard – just for me.”

“Yes.” Peter’s cock was twitching with eagerness, precum slicking the shaft from where it was drooling from the slit. “Tony…”

He parted his legs; an obvious invitation, but the older man didn’t take him up on it, save to place himself between Peter’s thighs, and slide his already sated cock against the boy's crack for just a moment before he moved down on the bed and without a word took him into his mouth, burying Peter’s cock in his throat with a single motion.

Peter threw his head back and cried out in unexpected pleasure, his hips driving up from the bed, forcing himself down Tony’s throat. The billionaire pulled back after a moment, and if not for having his mouth stuffed full of Peter’s cock, he would have smiled at the look on the boy’s expression. He looked as drunk as Tony had ever truly been; his chocolate doe eyes watching as Tony swallowed his cock, repeatedly, hands clenching in the bedding since he didn’t know what else to do with them.

“Don’t stop,” Peter whispered. “_Please_…”

Tony had no intention of stopping, so he didn’t bother to pull his mouth from Peter to answer. Instead, he continued what he was doing; his tongue and lips working to add to the pleasure of the suction that his mouth was creating on the teen’s cock. Peter wasn’t going to last too long, the older man knew, and he was fine with that.

He angled himself, though, to be able to watch Peter’s expression as he sucked him off, delighting in the way his face showed the lust and pleasure that Tony was drawing out of him with each movement.

“Tony… oh… Tony…”

The soft cries were intoxicating, and Tony growled into Peter’s cock, slurping him, hungrily. Then, just to see his reaction, he shifted just a little and slid his hand along Peter’s ass, his head bobbing down to deepthroat the boy just as the tip of his middle finger invaded that tight, puckered hole.

Peter gasped at the dual sensations and his cock practically exploded inside Tony’s mouth.

He clamped down on it, and felt the boy’s ass do the same to his finger. Hot cum filled his mouth and he guzzled it, enjoying the flavor that was uniquely Peter and the almost agonized sounds that he was pulling from him. Tony smiled at the way Peter suddenly went still, almost boneless, as the waves of satisfaction crashed over him and then left him spent. The billionaire drew his cock deep, once more, and then pulled back, slowly, cleaning that delicious rod of flesh before removing his finger from Peter’s ass and moving up to kiss him, gently.

“Well?”

Peter’s smile was sated – and a little smug.

“I could get used to that.”

“And the finger…?” Tony asked, carefully gathering Peter against him, bringing the blankets back up to cover him, mindful of the bruises, but enjoying the sight of the love marks he’d put on the boy’s alabaster skin. “What about _that_?”

“It was exciting,” Peter told him, nuzzling the older man’s neck with his lips, his tongue coming out to slide along the skin there, taking a taste of his own.

“Exciting enough to try something a bit bigger there, next time?” Tony asked him, lifting his jaw to give Peter better access. Peter’s hand slid down to run gentle fingers along Tony’s half-hard cock.

“A _lot_ bigger…”


	6. 6

“Yes. And so anxious to have you,” Tony admitted, brushing his own hand along Peter’s chin, bringing his head up for a kiss and then to look into his eyes for any sign of nervousness or anxiety at the thought of being under him. “So ready to make you mine.”

“I _am_ yours,” Peter told him, stroking him, lightly, seemingly unafraid of the idea. If anything, he looked like he was ready for another go. His hand was certainly working Tony as if that was what he had in mind. “I thought we’ve already established that.”

“Peter…” Tony’s voice held just a little warning.

“What?” His voice was filled with feigned innocence – as if Tony would ever believe that he didn’t know exactly what his hand was doing to him. The proof was slowly but surely filling the boy’s palm.

“You’re hurt.”

“Not _that_ hurt.”

“Stop.”

“_Please_, Tony…?” He whispered, his voice pleading and his breath hot and moist against the older man’s neck. “We’re soul-bonded, right? You _must_ be able to feel how much I want to…”

He _couldn’t_, but that might have something to do with how hard Tony had resisted accepting the relationship. There was plenty of time for that part of the bond to develop, so he wasn’t concerned.

“No.” Maybe if he hadn’t already gotten off, even if it was only in Peter’s hand. But the edge was gone, now, and even Peter’s pretty brown eyes weren’t going to be enough to convince him to risk hurting him. “We can play, later, honey. Why don’t you go to _sleep_?”

“I’m not sleepy…” Peter said, just this side of pouting. He rolled slightly, hooking his leg over Tony’s thigh, pressing his eager cock against the billionaire’s hip and rutting against him. “_Please_…”

“Peter…”

“_Honey_,” the boy said, huskily, still moving his hips. “I like it when you call me _honey_. Or maybe baby…”

His hand moved to Tony’s stomach, tracing invisible patterns in his skin with his fingertip, and Tony groaned at the intimate contact – and the way it roused him.

“We can’t.”

“We _can_,” Peter said. “I’ll tell you if it hurts and then you can stop.”

“No.”

“Please, daddy,” he said, moving on him, again, this time actually moving to straddle Tony’s hips, now. “I want to try it. I want you to be inside me.”

The daddy thing was almost Tony’s undoing. He made a strangled sound and wrapped his arms around the boy’s slight frame and pulled him down against him, driving his hips up to thrust his aching cock against Peter’s belly and holding them both frozen in that position for a long moment before he relaxed back into the bedding.

“No.”

“Tony…”

“_Daddy_.”

“I need you.”

“You’re fine.”

“No. I’ll _die_…”

Tony snorted, sliding his hands along Peter’s body, the boy still sprawled on him like a living blanket. His hands unerringly found the boy’s ass and cupped the cheeks, grinding the boy down onto him, feeling the delightful sensation of having him so close, his weight pressing his body down on his cock.

“You’re not going to die if we wait.”

“I _am_,” Peter told him, pressing his face into Tony’s chest, kissing him, lightly, and then sucking on his skin, making a mark or two of his own – claiming him. “It hurts.”

“Then you should go take a cold shower.”

The boy groaned, and this time he was the one grinding his hips against Tony.

“You could do anything to me, daddy. _Anything_.”

“I’m _going_ to,” Tony assured him. “Tomorrow, if you’re not too sore, I’ll spread those long legs of yours and ruin you for anyone else.”

“I don’t want to wait that long…” Peter said, petulantly. He rolled off of Tony with a soft groan of pain that had nothing to do with the ache in his loins and everything to do with the bruises that had brought him to Tony in the first place. “I thought soul bonded people were nicer to each other.”

“I’m still _new_ at it,” Tony pointed out, feeling a mixture of annoyed and upset when the boy rolled over onto his side, facing away from him. “I’ll be nice to you, tomorrow, honey.”

“You’re just _saying_ that…”

“Peter…”

“_No_.”

Tony scowled and rolled onto his side, bringing an arm around the boy and pulling him back against him.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmured into his ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t want to be soul bonded to me and you’re taking it out on me.”

“That not true.”

_Mostly_.

“I can feel you fighting it.”

“I’m fighting _it_,” Tony admitted. “Not _you_. I want _you_.” He shifted sliding his hand down Peter’s back to his rear, and pulling a cheek aside to allow him room to press the head of his still hard cock into the boy’s crack, nudging his tight hole. “Don’t you feel how much I want you?”

Peter pressed back against him, trying to force Tony into him, but without anything to lubricate, and no stretching or preparation, he whimpered at the very small amount of intrusion he was able to manage. That wasn’t comfortable at all.

Tony pulled himself back, moving his cock to press it against the small of Peter’s back, instead.

“Don’t do that,” he said, sharper than he intended.

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” Peter lied. “What do I do? How do we-“

“We wait until you’re better, and then I’ll show you how it’s done. I’ll show you repeatedly, honey. You just have to be patient.”

Peter sighed; a great sigh of suffering, that didn’t make Tony change his mind. Instead, the older man began caressing his side, enjoying the way the touch of bare skin on his fingertips seemed to resonate through his entire being.

Yes, he didn’t like being forced to be bonded to anyone – especially someone as head strong and young (and virginal) as Peter Parker, but it was also exciting to have the young body pressed tightly against him, knowing that he _could_ do anything that he wanted to him and Peter would allow it. Would beg him for it. Fuck, he already _had_.

“What are you thinking?” Peter asked, trying to settle and allowing Tony’s gentle touch to soothe him rather than excite him. It wasn’t easy.

“Just thinking about you,” Tony admitted. “And how pretty you are.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. You’re very pretty, honey.”

“But not your ideal soul mate.”

“No.”

Tony Stark was too used to being brutally honest to bite the word back before it escaped. He felt Peter tense under his hand, and against his body, heard and felt a sob that the boy couldn’t suppress. Almost certainly a combination of thwarted desire, frustration - and, of course, rejection felt at the very core of his being.

“Shh…” Tony pulled Peter tight against him, his arms sliding around him, one under him, and one over him, both hands meeting at the boy’s bare belly. “I didn’t say that to hurt you, honey,” he cooed. “I just meant that you’d be better off with someone your own age.”

Peter didn’t respond, and Tony could tell from the way he was shaking in his arms that he was silently crying. Which made him feel like shit, of course. He wasn’t a _monster_, after all – and he _did_ love Peter, despite his youth. Or maybe _because_ of it.

Wait.

He didn’t _love_ Peter, he told himself, impatiently. He’d just met him. He couldn’t love him. He was just… another sob escaped Peter’s control, and Tony broke off his internal argument and turned the boy in his arms, gently.

“Peter…”

“It’s okay,” he said, brokenly, refusing to meet Tony’s eyes. The older man could see that his cheeks were wet with tears and he gathered him into his arms. “I know I’m not what you wanted. I didn’t ask for this, either, though.”

“I know, honey,” Tony murmured, tucking the boy's head under his chin, stroking his hair, then his cheek, and then going back to his hair. “I’m sorry I was so awful to you. Please... I’m _sorry_.”

Peter didn’t answer him, but he _did_ cling to him, pressing himself against Tony’s warm, powerful, body, and holding him while he silently cried himself to sleep in his arms. Tony simply held him, murmuring gentle words of love and apology to him while he cried, and then just being there for him while he slept. Eventually, he slept as well, but it was troubled and filled with odd dreams.


	7. 7

It wasn’t surprising that Tony woke first, the next morning.

For one thing, Peter was injured and using energy to heal himself, which was exhausting, despite his youth. And for another, Tony’s restless sleep and weird dreams made him hyper alert to the boy in his arms, and he’d woken in the night any time Peter had so much as shifted a little in his sleep, or changed his breathing, or made the slightest of noises.

He came awake, slowly, his hand sliding along Peter’s side and down his hip before he realized that it wasn’t his own side and hip that he was feeling. As usual, the touch of bare skin made him feel amazing. Not just _any_ bare skin; because he’d never felt like this with anyone else in his bed. It was because it was _Peter_ he was touching. Tony recognized it, even as he still fought the compulsion that kept his mind sliding that hand along as much of that bare skin as he could, until he was absently cupping Peter’s perfect ass with the hand that wasn’t pinned under him.

Which woke Peter, of course.

He stirred; his own hand almost echoing what Tony was doing to him before he was awake enough to remember that he was allowed to touch him, but that Tony had rejected him the night before. Had told him that he wasn’t good enough for him. He felt the ache returning; felt the rejection welling up inside him like slow building lava inside one of those Hawaiian volcanoes that didn’t erupt violently, but as steadily as the earth turning, and doing just as much damage to everything they came near.

“Stop that,” Tony murmured, his hand squeezing Peter’s ass, almost painfully. “I didn’t _reject_ you.”

Peter didn’t even ask how he knew what he’d been thinking. He just sniffed.

“Yes, you did. Because I’m _young_.”

“_Ridiculously_ young. Too young to be tied to an old man like me.”

“You’re not that old,” Peter pointed out, starting to roll over, and maybe get out of the bed. He didn’t hurt anywhere close to what he had even several hours ago. The sleep had done him good – just like Tony had said it would. Stupid Tony _always right_ Stark – who wasn’t right about him being too young. “And I’m an _adult_. I’m not that young.”

“Nineteen,” Tony said, hauling him back against his belly, unwilling to lose the contact with all that skin. Besides, they had some key unfinished business to resolve.

“Still an _adult_.”

Peter could have pulled away. He knew he was stronger than Tony, and the older man couldn’t keep him in the bed. He couldn’t keep him _anywhere_ he didn’t want to be. But _Tony_ was touching him, and that touch made his skin sing with sensations that made him glad he was young and filled him with anticipation.

If only he could make the billionaire understand that he was perfect for him. He _must_ be, or the universe wouldn’t have paired them so irrevocably.

Tony sighed. “You’re just a _baby_, Peter. By the time you’re forty, I’m going to be – well, I’m going to be much, much, older than you.”

“Then I’ll help you choose your nursing home,” Peter snapped. “Don’t worry, it’ll be a _nice_ one. Jell-O at every meal, and soft foods, only, so you don’t have to put your teeth in if you don’t want to.”

Tony scowled, recognizing that he deserved that – and probably _much_ more, truth be told.

“I’m not that old.”

“It’s a number,” Peter told him. “Besides, that’s just an excuse, isn’t it? My age has nothing to do with any of it.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Tell me the truth, or I’m out of here.”

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

It came out of him in a rush, even as he – perversely – realized that Peter _I’m a nineteen year old who’s never been with a man and isn’t even old enough to go drinking with him_ Parker had just told him what to do.

“That’s it?”

Tony scowled that the incredulous way Peter spoke – like it was the stupidest thing that he’d ever heard.

“Yes, Peter. I’ve been making my own decisions my entire life. Now – _finally_ – the universe stops in one day and says to me ‘_Hey, this is the guy you’re going to love for the rest of your lives’_? What the hell?”

“Oh…”

That made sense, Peter supposed. He was a romantic enough to be overjoyed that the universe had found someone to love him – and that it had turned out to be someone that was strong enough, and sensible enough that he could (_maybe_?) overcome the bad luck that Peter had had with people he’d loved his entire life. Someone who wouldn’t be stolen from him.

“The only good thing about all of this,” Tony added into the silence, his hand tightening, imperceptibly, on Peter. “Is that the guy I’m supposed to love for the rest of my life is _incredible_.”

That brought Peter’s inner musings to a sudden stop. He lifted his head, looking at Tony, his entire being surprised and not hiding it.

“You think I’m incredible? But… but you don’t even know that much about me…”

Tony nodded.

“I looked you up last night when Cap brought you in. I know a lot more than you think I do – and it’s all amazing. Not just what I saw you doing as your spidery alter-ego, but what I saw concerning Peter Parker. You’re _good_. And amazing.”

“You really think that?”

“You can feel if I’m lying, remember?” he said, softening the annoyance in the remark with a touch; two fingertips against Peter’s cheek. “Yes. You’re all that and more. If I had your skills at your age, I’d have been causing a lot more trouble than I was trying to resolve. You’re trying to protect the little guy. I couldn’t fault you for that if I wanted to.”

“Then what do we do…?” Peter asked, softly. “I _need_ you to want me, Tony.”

“I _do_ want you, honey,” he admitted.

“On your own terms.”

“Yes.”

“But…”

“I can’t lie to you, remember? I’d be lying if I said I want to jump into a relationship with you because someone is making me.”

“The _universe_ is making you,” Peter pointed out. “Even _Tony Stark_ can’t tell the universe to fuck off.”

“I know,” Tony conceded. “That’s why I’m so annoyed.”

Peter sighed.

“So, it isn’t me. And it isn’t my age. It’s basically just a _tantrum_?”

Which made Tony scowl, despite the painfully accurate statement. Tony wasn’t the only one that could be blunt when he wanted to be. And then he sighed, again, realizing the truth in Peter’s words.

“Yes. That’s what it is.”

“Then get over it,” Peter told him, annoyed. “Because it isn’t fair to me that _you’re_ being a dick about this whole thing.”

“I know. I’m sorr-“

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Peter interrupted, pulling himself out of Tony’s arms, and then out of the bed, ignoring the ache of a few of the bruises. His lecture almost fell short when he noticed his pants were still slung down enough to expose his penis, and he pulled them up, impatiently. “I want you to be a grown up and take care of me. I’m your soul bond – the _one person_ in this whole fucking world that will never let you fall. I’m young, yes, but maybe you _need_ someone young because you’re such a flaming asshole that even the universe recognizes that your attitude and your recklessness would wear down someone your age in a matter of days. You get your head out of your ass, Tony Stark, and stop thinking about _you_, for a change. If I understand the way this works, that will be _my_ job, from now on.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the bathroom, leaving Tony laying in the bed, shocked at the lecture – and the sudden departure.


	8. 8

Peter needed a shower. He was gritty and felt dirty, and that wasn’t even including the fact that Tony’s cum was a dried mess on his chest and belly. He stripped out of the pants and left them where they dropped, double-checked that there was a towel close by and then turned on the shower, standing by the sliding door and waiting for the water to get warm before moving in to stand under the spray. A handy washcloth and a bar of soap (who used _bars of soap_, anymore?) took care of his gritty feeling skin, and he stood in the spray, letting the hot water rinse him clean, and relax him enough that he felt a little better.

He couldn’t help but smile at all the marks on his belly and pelvis. Marks that Tony had left on him. Proof that he’d really gotten a blowjob from the billionaire the evening before. There was a hickey at the base of his penis, just in case he needed a little more evidence. He reached for the shampoo just as the shower door opened and a very naked Tony Stark joined him.

Peter dropped the shampoo, which was – luckily – in a plastic bottle that simply bounced a few times and lay still on the tiled floor.

Tony smirked.

“Tell me that means no one has ever joined you in the shower, before…?”

“No. I mean… No.”

The older man stepped in and closed the door behind him. It was a huge shower area, but despite that, Peter was very aware of just how close he was.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, bending over and picking up the shampoo bottle, but not handing it to Peter. Instead, he opened it, and filled his palm with it, before putting the bottle back on the shelf and stepping closer to Peter, who was frozen in place. “You’re right,” he said, as he started rubbing the shampoo into Peter’s hair, his fingers gently massaging the boy's scalp and he made sure every curl had some attention. “I’m being an asshole about the whole thing.”

“Yes…” Peter agreed, closing his eyes to avoid soap running into them.

“Well, I’m done.”

Surprised, Peter opened his eyes, again, and blinked a dozen times against the sting of the soap that immediately got into them. Tony tsked about that, and took Peter’s head in his hands, turning his face toward the spray to clear them.

“You’re done?” Peter asked, finally. “Done with what?”

“I’m done being a dick about it. If the universe wants us together, who am I to say no? Maybe it knows best? God knows I haven’t been able to find Mr. Right by myself. And he’s certainly not sitting at the bottom of a bottle of good scotch.”

“So we can be together?” Peter asked, wanting to look at Tony, but unable to because the older man was now directing the shower spray to the shampoo in his hair and he had to close his eyes out of self defense.

“If you’ll have me – knowing full well that I’m not perfect and will almost certainly need another lecture – maybe every day.”

Peter smiled at that, and wiped the soapy water from his face before he turned back to him.

“I can give you one every hour if you think it’ll help.”

Tony chuckled and reached for the conditioner.

“I’m not _that_ bad. At least, I don’t think I am.”

“You’re not _bad_, at all,” Peter whispered as Tony started massaging the conditioner into his hair, using the same meticulous care that he used with the tools in his workroom. “I think you’re pretty okay, really.”

“_Okay_?” Tony echoed, amused. “Well, that’s a resounding endorsement.”

“_Pretty_ okay,” Peter corrected, turning his head to the spray, impatient to get the soap out of his eyes so he could look into Tony’s and see if he looked as content as he sounded, just then.

When he was able to look, he found himself being pulled into the older man’s arms, and held, closely.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Tony whispered, again, his mouth right next to Peter’s ear where he had no trouble hearing the sincerity in the apology. “Please forgive me.”

Peter melted against him, the sheen of soap still on his body from the conditioner as well as lingering soap allowing his skin to slide delightfully against the older man’s.

“I forgive you,” he murmured, feeling a surge of relief at the words, and unable to tell if it was his, or Tony’s. It was so odd to feel someone else’s emotions, and yet, it seemed perfectly normal when they were Tony’s.

“How do you feel this morning?” he asked. “You didn’t look too sore, earlier…”

When he was chewing him a new asshole and storming out of the bedroom.

“I ache a little,” Peter admitted, running his hand along Tony’s side, idly. “But better than last night.”

He shivered, despite the hot water cascading down on them, when Tony’s hands moved along his sides and came to rest on his ass cheeks, cupping them, lightly, and pressing himself against Peter, who moaned and pulled back just enough to look down between them, mesmerized by the sight of Tony’s cock rubbing against his belly.

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” Tony told him, his own gaze on Peter’s face, watching his expression as he slowly rutted himself against that muscular stomach, the head of his cock bumping against his navel and then sliding back, only to press forward again. “So perfect…”

“Yeah?”

If not for the fact that he was already flushed from the heat of the shower, Peter would have blushed.

“You doubt me?”

“No.” he smiled. “Are we going to do this, then?”

“You’re not too sore?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then, yes. If you’ll let me, I’m going to show you what you can expect from me at least ten times a day for the rest of your life.”

Peter chuckled.

“Ten times a day?” he asked, his lips coming to Tony’s shoulder and his teeth biting gently on the flesh there. “That’s ambitious for an old guy like you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, because I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to rise to it – if you’ll pardon the pun.”

“I love the pun,” Tony assured him. He brought his hand between them and captured Peter’s cock, stroking it, lightly. “I can see that _you’ve_ risen to the occasion.”

“Yes.” How could he not be aroused with Tony so close to him? “Are we going to do it in the shower?”

It was Tony’s turn to chuckle, lightly, and he caught Peter’s lips in a series of delicate kisses, timed to each stroke he made of the boy’s cock.

“We’re not _twelve_, baby,” he reminded him. “We’re not going to _do it_.”

“What do you want to call it?” Peter asked, his hands sliding along Tony’s ass, which was wonderfully muscular.

“Fucking. Loving. Playing hide the salami…” he smiled. “I don’t care what you call it, as long as you’re enjoying it.”

“You’ll tell me what to do?” Peter asked, rocking his hips with each motion of Tony’s hand, his own holding the older man’s pelvis area close.

“Yes.”

“Here?”

“In the shower? No. Not for your first time. Not for _our_ first time. I want you in my bed.” He felt the boy’s cock twitch in his hand at the words, and he smiled. “I gather you’re alright with that?”

“Yes.”

He let Peter go and opened the shower door.

“Let’s get dried off.”


	9. 9

Drying off was more than just Tony taking a towel to their wet bodies, Peter soon discovered. The older man spent far more time than was really necessary to run the soft fabric over Peter’s body. Wherever he dried, he also kissed, nibbled and licked, and Peter eventually just held himself still, watching as Tony’s hands and mouth explored his entire body.

Right there in the bathroom.

By the time he deemed the two of them dry, Peter was already a wreck, and harder than he could ever remember being. It was obvious that Peter was going to be the beneficiary of Tony’s vast experience in bed.

“Tony…” he was impatient, anxious to take the next step with his soulmate. “Please.”

“_Daddy_,” Tony reminded him, gently. “Relax, honey. It’s going to happen. But it’ll be better if we lead up to the main event slowly and thoroughly.”

“You’re being _too_ thorough.”

He chuckled, and pulled him into the bedroom, and pushed him down onto the bed, following him, slipping himself between Peter’s knees, which had parted, automatically. He leaned over his belly and chest, kissing him, hungrily, as he ground his cock against Peter’s, enjoying the sensation – and reveling in the anticipation.

“I’m going to make you mine,” he said, between kisses, unable to temper the possessiveness he felt, just then. “I’m the first person who’s going to be inside you – and the _only_ one. Ever. Right?”

“Yes.” Peter groaned, his hips hitching upward, his long legs wrapping around Tony’s thighs. “Just you. Please…”

“Oh, that’s perfect, honey,” Tony cooed, licking his fingers, before he reached down between them to slide his fingers along Peter’s crack, searching – and finding that tight, untried hole. “Relax a little.”

Easier said than done, Peter decided, moaning when the tip of Tony’s finger entered him.

Tony felt a surge of excitement go through him at the sound, smiling down at the boy he had under him.

“You’re so responsive, honey,” he murmured, lovingly, using the tip of his finger to apply a little pressure, which made Peter arch slightly against the unfamiliar invasion. “I could probably get you off with just my fingers.”

Peter whimpered, closing his eyes so he could focus on the new sensation, and Tony started working the finger in deeper, moving it around and watching Peter’s reaction. He was so fucking hot. Tony’s cock was leaking precum and eager, but he wanted to make the experience as good as possible for Peter’s first time. Besides, he probably owed it to him after being such an ass.

“Yes…”

Whether he was agreeing with what Tony had said, or simply making sure the older man knew that he approved of what was going on, Tony didn’t know. And honestly, didn’t care. He pulled his finger from Peter and kissed him, once, and then twice, before sucking yet another mark into Peter’s belly.

“I’ll be right back…” he whispered, which made the boy open his eyes.

“Where are you going?”

“Only as far as the bathroom,” Tony assured him, getting off the bed and stopping just for a moment to admire the sight of the naked young man; legs still open, cock resting on his belly, leaking precum onto his mottled hickey and bruise covered skin. “You’re beautiful,” he added, sincerely. “You know that, right?”

Peter blushed at the compliment, and watched as Tony walked as far as the drawer in the sink in the bathroom and returned a moment later with a small tube that he was warming in his hand. The boy’s gaze went to Tony’s cock, which was jutting out in front of him, thick and eager, and he couldn’t help the shudder that went through him at the sight.

“Don’t be nervous,” Tony told him, gently, resuming his now rightful spot between Peter’s legs. “I’m going to make sure you’re ready…”

“I’m ready,” Peter assured him.

Which made Tony smile, and he opened the lube, pouring some on his fingers.

“You _think_ you are,” he said. “But you’ll want a bit more preparation before we go any further, believe me. It can be enjoyable to go with a lot of lube a very little prep – but _not_ your first time.” He leaned over and kissed him, again, as his now slick fingers found his hole once more and he slid in even easier. “I want you writhing and crying under me,” he murmured, a second finger joining the first. “But only for the good reasons.”

The words were intended to get Peter that much more aroused, and it was working. The boy was making the most interesting sounds, his entire body tense as Tony worked his tight ass with his fingers, stretching him while occasionally interrupting his litany of dirty talk in order to brush a kiss against Peter’s lips. His tongue would also pepper kisses against Peter’s belly, and once, he shifted low enough to lick the precum that was dribbling almost nonstop from Peter’s cock. When he slid the third finger in, easily, Tony was pretty sure that he was done being patient.

Peter’s cries were soft and anxious, and his hips were jerking almost uncontrollably against Tony’s fingers. He pulled his fingers from Peter, and shifted, once more, hands coming under Peter’s rear, cupping his ass as he moved him a little, and then tucked a pillow under his lower back to raise him up in just the right position.

“I need you, Peter,” Tony whispered, desire making his voice harsh. He was slathering lube on his cock, stroking himself and feeling his pulse throbbing under his hand. “_Please_…?”

“Yes…”

The words came out in a rush and Peter reached for Tony’s shoulders, pulling him down to kiss him, while he brought his pelvis up, his cock leaving a wet trail along the billionaire’s belly. Tony guided the head of his cock along Peter’s crack, first, enjoying the sensation. Loving the shiver that ran through his body at the tight ass that was his for the taking.

“You’re so fucking amazing, Peter,” Tony told him, nudging his head against Peter’s hole. His hips moved, pressing himself harder, using a steady motion to force the boy’s body to submit. “My soulmate.”

“Tony…”

“_Daddy_,” he reminded him, dipping his head, kissing him, once, twice, and then a third time as he tried to relax the boy, even as his cock pressed on, the head now breaching the tight ring of muscle that was resisting his invasion so wonderfully. “My sweet lover,” Tony crooned, hearing Peter gasp when Tony finally sank the entirety of his cock deep within the boy.

“_Jesus_!”

Tony held still, giving Peter a chance to acclimate before he wrapped his arms around the shuddering frame under him and pulled him up, leaning back so Peter was now in his lap, his thighs straddling Tony’s hips, and his weight pushing him even further into that wonderfully tight ass.

“You’re mine,” Tony told him, kissing him, hard, before moving his tongue to the boy’s neck where he left yet another mark. “_All mine_.”

“Fuck… yes. Oh, yes.”

Peter couldn’t hold still – and he _didn’t_. He started grinding on Tony, rolling his hips against the cock that was filling him so thoroughly. Waves of pleasure coursing through his body, which was shared by Tony through their fledgling bond.

“Slowly,” Tony murmured, kissing Peter’s neck, and jaw. “Make it last as long as you can. It’s the first time – and I want you to enjoy it.”

“Now,” Peter countered, his arms going around Tony’s body, but his knees flexing enough to allow him to lift himself a few inches off of Tony’s cock – only to slide back down on it and moan at the sensation. He pressed his face into the junction between Tony’s shoulder and neck, closed his eyes and started lifting himself, taking the initiative in his impatience. “Fuck me… I _need_ it.”

With a groan, Tony gave in. He stilled Peter’s motions with firm hands on the boy’s hips and laid him back onto the bed, still buried deep within him. Then he kissed him, again, and started thrusting himself into him, balls slapping wetly against Peter’s skin as he went to work on him.

“Yes!”

Peter’s legs came up, bringing his knees to his chest, opening himself even further to Tony’s attentions. He moaned, and then cried out when the head of Tony’s cock finally found his prostrate, and he splattered Tony’s chest and belly when he came, suddenly, at the unfamiliar but amazing sensations that were overwhelming him. A shared mixture of his own pleasure – and Tony’s.

“Shit,” Tony gasped, almost dumb with the shock that rushed through him, just then, at the way he literally felt Peter’s climax almost as if it were his own. The sensation of the boy’s body tightening around his cock was enough to make him lose what little control he had.

“Peter!”

He drove deep, hips ramming his cock hard, angling perfectly, now, to hit the boy’s prostrate with each thrust, looking down between their bodies to watch as Peter took each thrust, rocking his hips up to meet him, eagerly.

“Tony…” Peter’s eyes were wide with shock and lust. “Oh, God… Tony. Tony. Tony.”

The older man didn’t correct him, this time. There was time enough to remind him to call him daddy. At the moment he was driving hard, chasing his own pleasure now. The room was filled with the sound of Tony’s low grunts, and Peter’s higher pitched moans, harmonizing to the sound of their bodies slapping together, wetly.

Instinctively, Peter reached down between them and his hands cupped his lover’s ass, fingers digging into the flesh. The touch was all it took to trigger Tony’s orgasm, and he swore, driving deep with a final exquisite thrust, his entire being tensing as his cock seemed to explode, filling Peter with his first load of cum, pinning the boy under his heavier body.

He felt Peter’s legs wrapping around his hips, his own jerking, hard, in little thrusts, trying to get deeper.

“That’s it… take me, Peter…” he whispered, harshly, his head dropping onto Peter’s shoulder, his hand holding the boy, keeping him still so he could fill him, completely. “So fucking perfect. So tight. Mine.”

It was a mind-blowing climax. Tony groaned as he finally felt his balls empty, and he rutted his hips a few more times, just because he couldn’t get enough of the dual sensations. His own completed pleasure, and Peter’s. He closed his eyes, sucking yet another mark on Peter’s neck, languidly.

“That was incredible,” Peter whispered over the sound of their heavy breathing, and the blood pounding in their ears.

“Yeah.” He finally slid out of him, reluctantly, and then rolled off the boy, pulling him up against him as he did, and reaching for the blankets to cover them. “There’s definitely something to be said for soulmate sex…”

Peter chuckled, suddenly tired, despite having just woken a short time before.

“You aren’t allowed to go to sleep right after doing that to me,” Tony murmured, kissing his temple, lovingly. “The rule is at least fifteen minutes of cuddling and pillow talk.”

Peter’s arms came around him, and he shifted to allow his head to rest on Tony’s bicep, using it as a pillow.

“I don’t think I can stay awake that long…”

“Then go to sleep,” Tony told him, his fingers caressing Peter’s cheek, and his eyes filled with love, rather than lust, as he studied Peter’s serene expression. Gentle, now, and willing to be gentled, as well. “You can owe me extra cuddling, next time."

The boy didn’t even try to argue. He closed his eyes, giving himself up to Tony’s touch.

“There’ll be a next time, right Tony?”

Now it was the billionaire’s turn to chuckle.

“You’re never going to be able to get rid of me, honey,” he assured him. “I like this soulmate thing." Now that he'd given into it. "Now that I’ve found you, I’m never going to let you go.”

Peter’s smile made Tony smile, too, and he felt Peter’s love for him pass between the bond they shared. He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to begin to fall asleep, as well. They had a lot to talk about, once they were awake and a little less naked, but it was an exciting thought, really. Making Peter his, and being part of something that he never would have thought possible for himself.

Why had he ever thought belonging to Peter would be a bad thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!  
Thanks for reading it. It's another trope I can cross off my list and it turned out okay, I think. (I'm always looking for suggestions of ones that I've missed)  
If you care to join my fledgling patreon and make a donation: https://www.patreon.com/neuropsyche  
It's new, but you can request your own stories, there, if there's something you want to buy, or you can always make requests. No purchase necessary, of course - I'll always write

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [WDtUK - Time Stamp](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23290573) by [Neuropsyche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche)


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